A Corpus Milieu
by Deus Mortuus
Summary: In the outer reaches of the Origin System, a small Corpus vessel plies its trade, turning what profit it can. However, there are a great many threats, from Grineer attacks to Infestation outbreaks, and, in a boardroom inside the CSV-0110F, Azef Dalo is having a very bad day. This is mostly lore-friendly, although there are a few fanciful interpretations.
1. Chapter 1: A Decidedly Bad Day

Aboard the merchant vessel CSV-0110F, an antiquated rust-bucket not too dissimilar to the salvage it hauled through the Origin System, in a stark, well-lit boardroom on the fifteenth floor of the primary personnel wing, five executives sat around the table, their pressurised suits concealed beneath ostentatious robes, their helmets pivoted backwards to reveal their faces. From a projector in the centre of the table emanated a set of charts and spreadsheets detailing the records and projections of the vessel.  
"As you can see, the figures are very respectable," said Azef Dalo from his seat at the head of the table. "Profit has increased by 5.3% since the last financial year and our debt is still well within acceptable limits. If this continues, we'll have the funds to buy a new vessel within a year; one that doesn't require us to spend all day wearing pressure suits for fear of a hull breach. We've also acquired the salvage rights to over a hundred abandoned facilities on Europa from Alad Electronics, so our supply of goods is assured."  
There was a smattering of applause from the others, after which the murmur of conversation filled the air in the boardroom. Profit beckoned for Dalo and Partners (Pty) Ltd, a one-ship venture plying its trade around the outer planets, and for all Corpus the call of profit was not easy to resist.

The grating blare of a siren brought the levity to a halt. Azef pulled his helmet into place and heard the hiss as it sealed. The action was almost-routine; minor depressurisations and hull breaches affected the CSV-0110F on a regular basis, the ageing hull and antiquated shields failing to withstand the occasional impacts with space debris that every vessel suffered. As the interface of his helmet activated, he swore. There wasn't a breach: the cause for alarm was listed as _"Unusual Void Energy Signature Detected"_. While the impassive helmets betrayed no emotions, he saw the worry in the way his companions rushed for the door.  
"Possible Technocyte Virus outbreak in wing 01101-C," Azef barked into his helmet, broadcasting across the standard address frequency, "Seal the wing and deploy a squadron of MOA. All crewmen, seal your suits and ready your weapons."  
A burst of affirmations over the channel confirmed that all due precautions were being taken: suits were sealed against the Technocyte spores and flux rifles were readied to counter potential threats. The MOA operators confirmed their readiness and set their robotic proxies into action. Unwilling to follow his colleagues to the escape pods just yet, Azef brought up the camera feeds from the sealed wing, looking for signs of the Infested. There didn't seem to be any, which was highly worrying considering how obvious Technocyte Virus outbreaks tended to be. None of the cameras showed anything out of the ordinary and there were no reports of sightings. There was a possibility that the alarm was a glitch, but it was remote enough to be dismissed; sensors were practically the top priority of any vessel that travelled the solar rails frequently.

All of Azef's speculation was brought to a halt as one of the camera feeds degenerated to static. A glimpse of some creature, humanoid but distorted beyond any Grineer creation, confirmed the presence of something aboard the vessel. It may have been an Ancient, a lone Disruptor disabling the electronics ahead of a full-scale assault, but subtlety and stealth tactics were wholly uncharacteristic of the Infested. Rather, the graceful swiftness and dreadful silence of the figure suggested a different, deadlier foe. Making sure not to broadcast over any unsecured frequency, Azef spat out a single word:  
"Tenno."

Struggling to contain his nervousness, Azef attempted to take stock of the situation. The Tenno were faceless, silent killers, inscrutable as they were brutal. Utterly enigmatic, they would fight alongside you one day before slaughtering you mercilessly the next. There was no standard operating procedure on dealing with a Tenno attack, but a few protocols had to be observed. Everyone was on full alert, even outside of the assaulted sector; Azef himself fidgeted nervously with a Detron as he steeled himself to make an announcement. Every competent manager knew how to modulate his voice and exude an aura of confidence at all times, whether in the boardroom or on the battlefield, but seldom had it been quite so difficult to maintain composure. Broadcasting across all frequencies, Azef spoke:  
"Tenno. We know where you are and, in Profit's name, beseech you to leave this vessel immediately."  
The only response was silence.

Following the announcement, several minutes of dreadful silence ensued. The cameras showed nothing atypical; not one report of activity enlivened the comms. Even the usual stream of feedback from the MOA corps was muted and dull. Finally, the unbearable quiet was broken by a pained gurgle, issued in a burst of static over the encrypted combat frequency. Azef hurriedly attempted to pinpoint its origin; moments later he had the floor and room. As if loosed by the dying gasp, a surge of voices filled his ears: reports of contact, followed by sounds of gunfire and requests for assistance – requests which, in many cases, swiftly changed to pleas and screams. Alarms shrieked as inhuman abominations were spotted for a moment by a camera, accompanied by shrill pings indicating that door barriers had activated. The cacophony painted a picture in chaotic strokes: the Tenno were cutting a bloody swathe through the ship, leaving no survivors in their wake. The trail of their destruction revealed a clear path headed, judging by the direction, toward the primary dorsal monorail connecting the modules of the vessel. With the sector sealed, it would be the only way for them to move through the CSV-0110F. The destruction they'd wrought across a single sector of the ship over the course of a scant few minutes was horrifying – and costly – enough; they could not be permitted to spread farther.  
"All guards, get to the dorsal transit station," Azef snapped, "It is absolutely imperative that they do not force their way into a monorail."  
A chorus of nervous assent filled his ears, accompanied by the chittering notification of MOA deployment, no fear evident in the voices of their operators. The calm, stoic mindset granted by the combat drugs, collected even in the face of extreme danger, was almost enviable. The robotic proxies would stand, utterly stoic and collected, firing steadily until, inevitably, they were cut down by the Tenno, a colossal waste of valuable equipment exceeding even that caused by a significant skirmish with a Grineer galleon.

The atrium of the transportation system, the hub connecting the sector to the rest of the ship, was a marvel of Corpus engineering and architecture. The entire dorsal transit system was maintained in a constant state of vacuum in order to minimise friction and the stations were no exception, lending an eerie silence to the three layers of platforms bearing the airlocks that would permit ingress to the monorails. Each platform was dotted by crewmen and MOAs, Ospreys hovering above them with a vacuum-induced quiet. At Azef's orders they waited, weapons trained at the entrances. A single carriage still remained docked at one of the upper platforms, locked into place by the emergency routines – a sensible measure to prevent the spread of a Technocyte outbreak, but unlikely to deter the Tenno for anything more than a moment. In the control room, sequestered safely near the fore of the ship, the best technicians were themselves attempting to override the lock on the rail, to minimal success. Extracting the carriage in time was the only hope of halting the advance of the Tenno. To that end, the remaining crew of the 01101-C sector would guard the carriage to the last, buying a little time with their lives. Azef watched the atrium from the camera feeds, the sombre sight leading a melancholic tone to the technicians' reports.

When the Tenno entered the atrium, all prior subtlety had been lost. They burst through an airlock, covered in an iridescent blue sheen as their shields compensated for the vacuum. They danced across the platform in a silent whirlwind of blades and gunfire. With a ruthless efficiency and astonishing speed, they moved through the cluster of defenders, a brutal elegance evident in their maelstrom of destruction. In short order, they traversed the station and reached the final inhabited platform, a trail of mangled corpses and ruined machines marking their path. As they came to a halt before the sealed airlock preventing their access to the carriage, one of them – tall and robed, with a halo-like protrusion above its head – raised its hand nonchalantly. Around the Tenno appeared a glassy dome, in which swirled a yellow snowstorm. The continued fire of the crewmen thudded into the dome, stopping short of the targets. Another Tenno, shorter and animalistic, walked up to the doorside console and began to fidget.  
"They're attempting to hack the door controls," announced a technician; "If the airlock holds for just a few seconds longer, we'll be able to detach and remove the carriage."  
The opening of the airlock coincided almost exactly with the sudden jolt of movement as the carriage pulled away from the platform. The door was open, a result of the forced departure and ill-timed hack. It mattered little, however, as it moved along the monorail and out of their reach.

The Tenno, unfortunately, were not that easily stopped: a third creature, plain and feminine, pointed at the open doorway and snapped its fingers. A blood red rectangle appeared before it, connected to the carriage by a crimson chain. All four Tenno ran into the strange aperture, vanishing from the platform. An alarm wailed as a camera detected the sudden appearance of four entities aboard the carriage.

"Is there anything we can do to stop them?" Azef asked, already somewhat resigned.  
"Not perfectly, Chairman Dalo. Not with software this old. The best we can do is bring them to a halt at the next station and then disable to rail entirely," a tech responded.  
Azef brought up a map of the ship on the desk projector, displacing the camera feeds. The next stop on the line was wing 010001-F: the primary personnel wing. In many ways, it was an ideal stroke of luck: the wing would be mostly empty, with the majority of the personnel on duty elsewhere, and the valuable cargo and equipment stored therein was minimal. There was just one issue: the boardroom in which he sat was located in the selfsame wing. Clutching his Detron tightly, acutely aware of just how small the sidearm was, he steeled himself and issued the order.  
"Do it."

The Tenno sprang from the carriage the instant it ground to a halt. They moved into the sector and out of the sight of cameras with the same speed and purpose that they had displayed at the station. Even more nervous than before, Azef decided to make an attempt at reaching an escape shuttle. Leaving the relative safety of the boardroom, he rushed to the nearest armoury and slipped one of the experimental nullification field generators onto his back. His helmet's visual feed went black for a moment as his suit's power source adjusted to the suddenly-heavier demand placed upon it, but was restored presently. The nullification field expanded around him with a crackle, forming its characteristic dome. As uneasy a feeling as being within the field always begot, the body restricted by reverse-engineered Orokin technology, it would prove a definite boon if the Tenno located him: designed to suppress the Infested by rendering the Technocyte spores semi-inactive, it would also rob the Tenno of their unnatural abilities and, more importantly, intercept a fair few projectiles. Finally, picking up a set of spare clips for his Detron, he began his run towards the shuttle bay.

It was in a narrow corridor joining a pair of mess halls that the Tenno finally found Azef. To his relief, it was only one of the four: a bulky beast, covered in a shimmering golden coat. Seeing him, it roared, charging towards him with what appeared to be a Grineer rocket hammer in its hands. It slammed into the nullification field and snarled, advancing towards Azef with a swing of its hammer. As it passed into the field, the golden plating disappeared, revealing a stocky, red-brown creature with a nondescript bronze plate for a face. Trying his best to ignore its howls and focus, Azef raised his Detron and pulled the trigger five times, as quickly as he could. With the last attack having passed centimetres from his head, the radioactive bursts did not have much room to spread. They struck the Tenno cleanly, the third burst taking down its shields. Ducking backwards as he hurriedly reloaded, Azef narrowly avoided another swing of the hammer; the Tenno howled as its attack swung over the top of his helmet. Taking aim once more, he emptied the clip into the creature; it fell to the ground with a whimper, dropping its hammer and pulling out a hand cannon of some description as it lay prone. Not willing to risk discovering what form of vicious rounds it was using, Azef ran once again towards the shuttle bay, trusting the nullification field and his personal shield to protect him from the Tenno's last ditch attack.  
"Any security personnel currently stationed in the 010001-F sector, please report," he barked into the combat channel; "This is Chairman Dalo; I've encountered a Tenno. I want everyone on full alert and a squadron of MOA at my location to secure the body."

In short order, Azef was surrounded by a small guard of crewmen, dutifully surrounding their employer, if only to take cover in the nullification field. The fallen Tenno lay still, surrounded by clucking MOA, its last, desperate efforts exhausted.  
"We're heading for the shuttle bay," Azef told his entourage. "If all of the directors can evacuate – and I should be the last – then the Tenno will have no reason to remain. We'll even leave them with easy access to an exit. However, first we must get to the bay."  
He raised his helmet momentarily, displaying a grim expression. "This will not be easy, but anyone who survives will have a substantial raise. In the name of Profit, let's go."

They had almost reached the shuttle bay and were proceeding through an adjacent Osprey hangar when the Tenno attacked again. As if seeking vengeance for their fallen comrade, they suddenly appeared behind the group, a crimson chain behind them disappearing into the rafters. Seeing the group in close proximity for the first time, Azef was somewhat amazed at the diversity between the creatures: none bore any resemblance to the one that had attacked him earlier. One was tall, with a barbed halo above its head, one was feminine, with a stream of what looked like radiation emanating from the back of its skull and the final one, which he had not yet seen, was lean, with a set of forward-pointing horns matching the venomous-looking daggers it held in each hand.  
"Open fire," ordered Azef, "and stay inside the field."

Seemingly unfazed by the rain of Dera lasers, two of the Tenno simply returned fire, each projectile causing the nullification field to shrink as it absorbed the impact. The third simply vanished – Azef surmised that it must have moved too swiftly to be visible even to his helmet's sensors. Slowly backing towards the hangar, he took a cautious shot at the remaining Tenno whenever it seemed prudent. After emptying a clip, he decided to be a little more cautious and simply directed the efforts of his vanguard. Their efforts were not entirely without success: the feminine Tenno was forced to take cover, while the other raised its hand as it had at the station and once again summoned a seemingly-impervious dome around itself. For the first time, the Tenno seemed to be on the defensive, even if their continued barrage was diminishing the disruption field significantly, leaving more and more of the remaining crewman exposed.

"Chairman! Behind you!" called a crewman, a hint of desperation in his voice. Too late, Azef heard a hissing exhalation in his ear and turned to see the final Tenno, its inhuman face as impassive as ever, but seemingly grinning. With a cackle, it began to swing its twin blades, striking him neatly in the torso. Even though his shields were still intact, the pain was immense: despite the blades glancing off his suit in a shower of blue sparks, some toxin had permeated his life support systems and made every breath an excruciating effort. Struggling to remain sensate, Azef, almost closing his eyes in panic, pointed his Detron and pulled the trigger, again and again, exhausting the ammunition in the first second but still pulling, as though the act would help. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as shot after shot crept from the barrel: one burst hit the face, exhausting the shield. The second hit a shoulder, severing the arm and leaving a glowing stump. The third left a smoking crater in the chestplate and was followed quickly by the fourth, which broke the thin layer of armour entirely, releasing what seemed to be Technocyte spores, a seething orange mass swarming around the wound. The fifth ripped through the exposed torso, leaving a gaping hole in the chest of the creature, from which more and more Technocyte appeared. As the broken corpse fell to the ground, Azef broke into a sprint, praying that what remained of his guard would follow. With every breath drawn a herculean task due to the toxin, he set his suit to administer a combat stim to dull the pain and jammed another clip into the Detron. Feeling some of the pain lift as the drugs took effect gave him a final burst of energy, with which he propelled himself into the shuttle bay and activated the lockdown procedure.

Azef watched with great apprehension as the bay doors closed, but no Tenno seemed to be approaching; he sighed with relief as the doors clicked shut and his nullification field, extending only a few centimetres beyond his body, began to expand once more. As dictated by regulations and request, there was a shuttle awaiting him, the boarding ramp extended. With a sigh of relief and beginning to feel the exhaustion even with the cocktail of combat drugs keeping him alert, he walked toward his escape.

As his nullification field passed over the boarding ramp, there was a hiss and a crackle. Before him, standing on the ramp, was the horned Tenno. The hole in its chest was still there, filled with the buzzing swarm. Its arm, too, was held in place only by the efforts of the Technocyte infection. Realising that it had been seen, it hissed viciously, its face still utterly expressionless despite the gaping wounds in its body. Azef took a shot at it, but it sidestepped the burst elegantly, its hiss becoming a sibilant laugh. Again, he took aim and fired and again it dodged, turning once more to face him with a dagger in each hand. Frustrated, Azef emptied the remaining three charges, cursing as each missed. He ejected the clip, hearing it clatter to the ground as the Tenno watched impassively. Finally, as he reached for a replacement, as if growing bored by his ineptitude it pounced, bearing down upon him with an inhuman screech and both weapons poised to strike. Knowing that he could not defeat it if it closed the distance, armed as he was with only an unloaded sidearm, Azef silently apologised to his firearm instructors and dropped the replacement clip to the ground before bringing down his foot upon it as hard as he could. The Detron used highly unstable ammunition, the only way to pack such an effective punch into a such a small weapon, but with the constant risk that it might breach. Azef was fairly certain that his personal shield would be able to absorb the sudden burst of intense radiation that the clip would emit as it destabilised, but the Tenno appeared to have some kind of vulnerability to the wavelengths used. The creature was still in air, bearing down upon him and about to strike, as the clip detonated and his helmet's optical feed turned to static.

Quickly raising his helmet, Azef saw that the Tenno seemed disorientated, no longer covered by the shimmer of a shield. Limply, he shoved it to the ground, aware that it would rise the instant it regained its senses, and leaped onto the boarding ramp, swearing so loudly he was certain the other Tenno could hear him from outside the shuttle bay. Activating the magnetic attachments in his boots to adhere himself to the ramp, he closed his helmet again, screaming a command to depart into his barely-functional comms. The entrance ramp closed with him still desperately clinging to it, leaving him lying, forlorn and exhausted, on the dull metal floor of the shuttle as it shuddered into life and lurched through the atmospheric retention field and into the inky blackness of space.  
"We're out, sir," the pilot informed him.

Shakily pulling himself to his feet before collapsing once more onto one of the upholstered benches lining the cabin, Azef turned to the view screen just in time to see three tiny craft, reminiscent of the some of the aquatic creatures that hunted on Europa, swoop into the hangar bay he had just left. Their elegance and almost-organic appearance, along with the lotus insignia they bore, marked them as Tenno technology. A moment later, they departed once more and slipped away from him, vanishing into the Void with a shimmer and a hum.

"They're gone," Azef stumbled across the general crew frequency, exhaustion overtaking him. "This is Chairman Azef Dalo, reporting that the Tenno have left the CSV-0110F. I repeat, the attack is over. Everyone return to your positions. I want all the damage assessed before the end of the week."  
The danger of keeping a dead – or possibly just dormant Tenno – aboard, tempting its fellows into a rescue mission, occurred to him, but he didn't have the energy to deal with it himself quite yet.  
"Someone, send a message to Alad Electronics stating that we have a valuable item on sale. Direct all inquiries to the Partners as a whole. For now, however, the I need to sleep."


	2. Chapter 10: Recovery

The shuttle was still orbiting forlornly around the CSV-0110F when Azef drifted back into consciousness. He couldn't tell how long he had slept, although the infinite depths of space seemingly unchanged relative to his position. He pulled himself upright on the bench, leaning heavily against the armrest. Every movement still hurt, but it was a dull, insistent pain, rather than the searing agony the Tenno toxin had caused. His ornate robe was torn almost beyond recognition, the intricate whorls and patters ripped to shreds in the confrontation. The pressure suit below registered almost a dozen minor breaches. Someone had removed the nullification field generator while he slept and it sat on the floor beside his feet, dented but otherwise intact. His helmet too had been removed, but it seemed far less salvageable: cracks lined the exterior, unnoticed in the rush beforehand but evident in the calmness of the shuttle. The sensors were likely fried by the radiation, rendering the wearer blind. At last, feeling a sting with each movement, Azef activated one of the shuttle's terminals and checked the date and time. He had slept for almost fifteen standard hours.

"Scans indicate that the area is clear, sir," the pilot informed him, "Shall I bring us back aboard?"  
"Excellent," said Azef, "Land us in one of the Osprey hangars for now. I'd rather not disrupt the hangar bay until we've finished analysing the traces left by the Tenno vessels."  
A response to the affirmative and the shuttle sprang to life, propelling itself towards one of the many hangar entrances dotting the exterior of the ship. They passed through the atmospheric retention field and landed amidst a swarm of inactive Ospreys. The boarding ramp descended with a hiss and Azef stepped off the shuttle and back onto the CSV-0110F. Presently, a medical team arrived aboard one of the rovers technically intended for delivery to one of the Europa salvage operations. They hustled him onto the vehicle, transformed into a makeshift clinic and strewn with the wounded and dead. One hasty inspection followed by a more complete full-body scan later and the head medic approached Azef, weariness evident in his eyes as he glanced at the thick sheaf of printouts in his hand.  
"It seems, Chairman, that you have not sustained any major physical injuries. However, it is quite evident that you have sustained moderate nerve damage from an unknown neurotoxin administered by the Tenno. Your suit administered a generic antitoxin in short order and we will be able to facilitate further regeneration, but it is exceedingly unlikely that you will be able to make a full recovery. Fortunately, you should be able to suppress the majority of the residual effects with a standard painkiller suite, but we can't guarantee that it will be perfect."  
"Thank you, doctor," replied Azef, with as much sincerity as he could muster. The clinical delivery of the medical report, although it brought hope of at least a partial recovery, drove home that he, like his ship, would bear the scars of the Tenno assault for a long time to come.

Assembled once again around a boardroom table, the managers of Dalo and Partners (Pty) Ltd examined a set of reports, reflecting a far poorer indication of the business' direction than the previous day's figures. Nuyen Denar, seated to Azef's immediate left, began to speak.  
"We estimate that the damage incurred by the Tenno attack, over the course of the twenty-five minute incident, amount to one hundred and twenty-four crewmen, as well as equipment with an estimated value of four and a half million credits, including two hundred and sixty-four MOA and seventy-one Ospreys. To our fortune, they were not able to access a primary cargo hold and thus our loss of trading stock is minimal, amounting to thirty-two thousand credits' worth of salvage stored in the 01101-C sector."  
"How much of this is covered by the budget?" asked Sumko Lonas.  
"We allowed for operational losses totalling two million credits, five percent of our gross profit from the last financial year. The remainder will have to come from our retained income, delaying our purchase of a new vessel by at least half a year."  
"What of the captured Tenno?" Azef inquired.  
"We've sent inquiries to Alad Electronics. Alad V himself has expressed interest in opening negotiations, Chairman, but demands to speak with you personally. The Tenno itself is currently restrained in a nullified cell and we've confiscated all its weapons. It has shown no signs of movement so far, however, so it may be safe to consider it deceased."  
"Very well. I'll contact Alad V after we adjourn. With luck, we'll be able to recover a little more of our losses from this sale. For now, however, I think we can agree that it's best to continue to Pluto and complete our delivery to Beecloud Industries."  
A chorus of assent greeted him.  
"Very well, then. In the name of Profit, this meeting is adjourned."

Azef settled into a seat in one of the long-range communication booths. He had picked a new robe for the occasion, pristine and elegant. The void-borne connection to Jupiter flickered into life, the grotesque form of Alad V appearing before him on a viewscreen. Traces of Technocyte infestation scarred face, suppressed by a localised nullification field. However, his piercing eyes glared through the screen, alert, cold and perceptive as ever.  
"Azef Dalo," he said, "I'm told you've captured an intact Tenno."  
"Yes. I'm afraid that it's dead, or at least dormant, but it's a wholly intact specimen of the variety designated 'Rhino'."  
"You were right to come to me first, Chairman Dalo. This could prove most helpful to my Zanuka project."  
Azef knew little of the Zanuka programme, save that he had seen a prototype when making a delivery to Jupiter. Alad had created agile, semi-autonomous proxies that could be controlled locally, presumably using reverse-engineered Tenno technology.  
"There is, of course, the matter of price, Chairman Alad," he responded, in his element when required to haggle.  
"Oh, naturally. I'm willing to pay you a good three million credits for your specimen."  
Azef almost spat, but managed to remain composed. Three million was far higher than he had expected as an opening offer. Nonetheless, to accept such a sum without question would be to reject his nature as a Corpus; failing to seek a little extra would make him no better than a Grineer.  
"Should I attempt to put this creature up for auction to the Board of Directors, I wouldn't expect to see a price below five, especially since the specimen is entirely intact."  
"You wound me, Chairman Dalo, but I will concede the accuracy of your figures. I am, however, but one of the Board. You can't expect me to drop five million credits on a Tenno I haven't even seen."  
"My techs will transmit some footage from the cell momentarily," said Azef tersely, before continuing, "and I am not an unreasonable man. I am willing to settle for four million."  
He waited patiently as the camera feed was sent through the void, appearing on a projected screen behind Alad. The latter inspected it, saving the data for further review.  
"This footage seems satisfactory. The Tenno is intact and of the correct type," said Alad, "You have a deal, Chairman Dalo. I'll transmit the payment when you arrive at my Jupiter facilities.  
"Half in advance, half on arrival," insisted Azef, mindful of the cost of repairs needed to get the ship to the central solar system in the first place.  
"You rob me blind, Dalo, but I'm in no position to refuse."  
He cut communications with the traditional farewell following a transaction: "May our ledgers become ocean; may our margins see Centauri."

Satisfied that the line was no longer open, Azef let out a sigh of relief. Dealing with Alad V, the richest and hence chairman of the Board of Directors, the ruling committee of the Corpus, was always a nightmare, even more so since an accident had left him partially infested. That the deal had gone so smoothly – and so profitably, almost paying for the equipment losses the Tenno had caused on its own, leaving the remainder well within the provisions made – was as surprising as it was relieving; the value of a captured Tenno exceeded in his eyes that of a shipload of salvage.

Within an hour, the treasurer noted the sudden receipt of two million credits, a fact of which the board was swiftly informed. The sum would be more than sufficient to pay for refuelling and maintenance at one of the stations in low Pluto orbit, in addition to the replacement of many of the proxies lost in the attack. Despite the sombre mood permeating the crew following the sudden loss of hundreds of their own, the news that a massive influx of income was nigh leant a subtle elation to the atmosphere aboard the CSV-0110F as it limped its way towards Pluto.

The solar rail trip proved wholly uneventful, the Europan customs officials okaying the voyage almost without question and punching them through to the Outer Terminus in a distant orbit around Pluto. From there, the trip to the Minthe Station, locked in a stationary orbit above the outpost to facilitate the delivery of goods to the surface, was trivial. While docked, Azef placed an order for a shipment of MOA from the Hades production facility, negotiating a reasonable price from the most prominent mass-producer of the bipedal proxies. The lost Ospreys could be replaced from the foundries at Amalthea, not too distant from Alad Electronics' Themisto headquarters.

The primary focus of the trip to Pluto was accomplished with equal efficiency: the Beecloud officials administering the station acknowledged the arrival of the CSV-0110F with the usual formality and transmitted the funds for the twelve thousand metric tonnes of salvage recovered from Europa, supplying their own retrieval vessels to ferry the goods from the cargo bays aboard the ship to the space elevator by which they would be transported to the facility below. Beecloud Industries dealt with the Grineer frequently, a fact evident from their slightly-more-relaxed attitude towards customers and figures, characteristic of having to deal with brutes unable to count once they ran out of fingers. To their fellow Corpus, paranoid to a fault and constantly scheming over every credit, they were a pleasure to do business with, the casual affability of many of their representatives absolutely unheard-of amongst the majority of firms. As such, Azef deployed a few proxies of his own to ensure all the correct quantities of goods were offloaded and requested that the payment details were scrutinised for any inconsistencies with the deals made before issuing a receipt, knowing that the lax discipline occasionally spread to figures, unintentionally or otherwise. Cheating the Grineer of a few hundred thousand on every transaction was trivial; the Corpus were another matter. Nonetheless, the payment seemed satisfactory, totalling 6 credits per thousand cubic centimetres of salvage. Once the cargo had been fully unloaded and the ship refuelled, with all necessary maintenance performed, they departed once more from the station, crawling once again toward the Outer Terminus and the solar rails.

Jupiter loomed magnificently as the CSV-0110F slipped out of the void at the solar rail station, the most menacing and impressive of the Corpus-controlled planets, home to the richest and most ostentatious corporations. Entirely incongruous amongst the sleek, elegant fleets plying the low-Jovian orbit, the rust-bucket made its way towards the richest corporate headquarters of them all: Alad Electronics. Like many ships of its kind, the CSV-0110F was not equipped for atmospheric flight, so it assumed a stationary orbit above the office – more of a city – from which Azef ordered the readying of the most-intact shuttle, a rickety craft that must have dated back to the Orokin era. Notifying the air traffic control of his impending arrival, he ordered the transportation of the Tenno to the shuttle, ensuring that it was kept bound and encased in three overlapping nullification fields throughout its trip to the shuttle bay. Once the Tenno had been placed aboard the shuttle, secured in a hostage transportation rack and surrounded by a trio of crewmen with nullification field generators, Azef, Nuyen and the guards departed for the planet. They were met on the surface by a heavily-armed escort surrounding, to Azef's immense surprise, Alad V himself. The richest man in the Origin System was haggard and gaunt, some form of proxy control collar around his neck and bulbous Technocyte outgrowths protruding from beneath his clothing.

"You've brought the Tenno?" he rasped, a grating harshness in his voice that had not been evident in the earlier negotiations.  
"Of course, Chairman Alad," said Azef, signalling to his entourage to present the captured creature. They did so, wheeling the rack down the boarding ramp, the Tenno secured thereon. As if wakened by the movement, it began to stir for the first time since its capture, struggling weakly against its bonds.  
Alad V almost jumped with excitement as he walked toward the creature, stopping directly before the imprisonment rack and examining the Tenno closely.  
"You have no idea how happy this makes me, Chairman Dalo," he gasped, running a gloved hand down the side of the Tenno's impassive helmet, smiling as it attempted to flinch away from his touch.  
"There is no feeling quite like watching a Tenno squirm as you slowly dissect it. A bonus would be improper, of course, but I must invite you to be my guest at my next demonstration of my Zanuka project." His grin spread a little wider. "With this lovely new addition to my collection," he added, stroking once again the helpless creature before him, "I should have something new to show the Board within the week."  
Azef watched as the richest man in the system gently caressed the struggling Tenno, amused by its attempts to escape his grasp. Finally, he responded, "I would be honoured to accept, Chairman Alad, but there is the matter of my company. The costs incurred by ceasing business for a week would be immense. I hope you understand, but the demands of my ledgers must come first."  
"Do you have no-one you trust with captaincy in your stead, Chairman Dalo?"  
"Of course I do. Executive Denar here is an entirely competent commander. It's just that by the time of your event, if my only ship has departed without me, it would be a nightmare to rearrange our schedules such that I could be retrieved. A small business like mine can't afford to make any trip by solar rail without reason."  
"That will not be a problem. I'll dispatch one of my voidskimmers to send you back to your headquarters in," he paused, momentarily distracted from his prize, "Where were you headquartered again?"  
"Pazuzu Station, Chairman. High Europa orbit."  
"Yes, of course. Well, I'll have one of my 'skimmers take you there. I'll even let you keep it, so that you don't have to go everywhere in that hideous old CSV of yours." He giggled, the rasp evident even in his laughter. "I should be able to write that off as charity."  
The obvious attempt at bribery despite the earlier denial of such a deal rankled, but the offer – a fully-functional voidskimmer, the smallest, most manoeuvrable class of craft capable of travel by the Solar Rails – was too great. "I accept your proposal, Chairman," said Azef, still somewhat reluctant.  
"Excellent! I knew you'd come around to it eventually, Chairman Dalo. I'm sure you'll appreciate the show; I know I will. Not to mention that it's not every day that a salvage peddler such as yourself gets to see something of this importance. Now, about the rest of your payment…"  
Alad muttered to one of his entourage, who ran out of the hangar with a nod.  
"You should receive the remaining two million credits within the hour," he said to Azef, before turning back to the Tenno. "I can't thank you enough for this prize you've given me. A live specimen!" He giggled again as the creature struggled desperately before falling still.  
"You have no idea how happy this makes me," he repeated as he and the remainder of his entourage departed from the hangar, dragging the transportation rack and the defeated Tenno with them.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Azef," Nuyen asked once the others had departed. "I'm not sure if I could survive a week trapped with him."  
"This isn't about what I want, Nuyen. This could bring us profits beyond measure. He seems to like me and if that leads to a good word about me being given to some of the other members of the Board, then we could see new contracts far more lucrative than ever before. There is demand for salvage among the larger firms, but the only reason Alad Electronics even acknowledges our existence instead of dealing with a larger operation is because we bought the rights to just over half our salvage fields from them. If even one of the others is willing to make a deal, then we're set, but that won't happen if I just head back to the ship and forget this happened."  
"Then it's settled? You're leaving me in charge for a chance at a contract."  
"Networking aside, there is a more important reason. You saw Chairman Alad. He's the sort of man who gets what he wants. I'm not sure I want to know the consequences of refusing him. He's offering me a voidskimmer if I stay; that can't be worth less than ten million. If he's that determined to have me stay, it seems suicidal to leave."  
"When you put it like that, Azef, I suppose there's nothing I can do to stop you. Just try not to get yourself killed in there," said Nuyen.  
"Of course. I wish you good fortune and steady profits until my return."  
"Good fortune and steady profits indeed, Chairman Dalo. Farewell, for now." With that, Nuyen and the three guards boarded the shuttle once more. The landing ramp closed with a pneumatic hiss and Azef watched as it slipped out of the hangar and into the Jovian sky. He was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. A clerk, the sigil of Alad Electronics emblazoned on his suit, looked at him expectantly. "You're Azef Dalo? The Chairman has asked that you're shown to your quarters."

The lodgings Alad V had selected for him were well beyond any in which Azef had previously stayed. They were located on the penultimate floor of one of the massive skyscrapers overlooking the rest of Themisto, the view slightly obscured by the manic swirling of gases shared by all gas-giant-based facilities. His quarters covered almost the entire floor, to the extent that he found himself getting lost in a labyrinth of bedrooms, kitchens, lounges and reception rooms trying to find his way from the spacious study to the massive balcony. He understood that he was meant to be impressed, the small-time entrepreneur from the outer planets being placed in the lap of luxury in the financial heart of the Origin System. However, he found himself more annoyed, restless even with access to a long-range communicator. He had never taken more than a day's leave since he had founded Dalo and Partners and sitting around without paperwork or negotiations felt almost unnatural. The entertainment library was as massive as the rest of the apartment, but attempting to watch a film from the database only accentuated his restlessness. Eventually, he had his fellow directors transmit the ledgers and began to scrutinise it, finding more distraction in the endless columns of numbers than the pointless melodrama or mindless action offered by the entertainment systems. Almost unfortunately, the bookkeeper he had hired seemed competent, as days went by without Azef finding an error. Attempts to leave and take a look around the city proved futile, the lock on his gilded cage proving very secure indeed. He considered attempting to leave via the balcony, but realised the stupidity inherent in jumping armed with only a pressure suit and personal shield, aware that the fall would almost certainly prove fatal, especially with the intense Jovian gravity. Finally, on the eighth day, as the prospect of trying to jump grew ever more attractive, if only to escape the tedium, a message arrived from Alad V.  
"My Zanuka is ready. Come at once to witness the glory of the latest prototype."


	3. Chapter 11: A New Deal

Azef realised the significance of the summons: his time in the company of the Grand Chairman was coming to an end. Hoping to leave at the earliest possible moment, he donned his pressure suit and checked all the seals before covering it with a heavy, embroidered ceremonial robe of office. A traditional Corpus garment, it indicated with a thin purple sash that he was the owner of a company. Satisfied at last, he opened his helmet and fastened the clasp to attach it to the back of his robe.

The doors unlocked with a click, allowing Azef's egress from the apartment and, following a quick trip down the elevator, onto the streets of the Themisto facility, where he found a transport waiting for him. He was chauffeured through the streets until, at last, the transport came to a halt outside a large auditorium; the face of Alad V projected was onto the façade, deformed into grotesqueness by the imperfections of the surface. The antechamber was packed: most of the inhabitants were proxies of the highly humanoid variety often used as representatives when negotiating with non-Corpus, although there were also a fair number of people present in the flesh, attired in the garish styles favoured by the rich. Azef recognised the majority of them, at least by their corporate colours: Frohd Bek, Alad's predecessor as Grand Chairman and still one of the richest living Corpus was perhaps the most prominent, alongside a proxy bearing the red and white logo of Beecloud Industries. Several gave Azef a disdainful glance as he walked into the antechamber before turning back to their conversations. Noticing him at last, Alad bounded towards Azef with an enthusiastic series of leaps and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The bulbous Technocyte pustules covering the offending limb made Azef very grateful for the hermetically-sealed pressure suit beneath his robes.

"Gentlemen," announced Alad, "I would like to introduce my guest of honour. This is Azef Dalo. He's one of those Europan salvagers, but he actually managed to make himself useful and captured a live Tenno. It's thanks to him that tonight's demonstration is possible. Maybe one day he might be worth knowing." With that, he pranced back into the midst of the crowd with the same manic energy. Bemused and somewhat embarrassed by the sudden attention drawn to him, Azef was almost pleased when he was forgotten almost instantly following the Chairman's departure. He retreated to a corner of the antechamber, awaiting the promised demonstration and the opportunity to leave. To his immense surprise, he was approached by the Beecloud proxy, the face-screen displaying none other than Nachef Ohzor, the CEO. Azef straightened his posture, but it waved dismissively.  
"Salvager. If I understand the Chairman correctly, you have successfully repelled a Tenno attack without a loss of cargo."  
"That's right," he stammered. "The shipment was sold to Beecloud Industries. Your Minthe facility should have the manifest on record if you'd like to confirm it."  
"I'll have it checked. If it is indeed true, you are startlingly competent for a salvager and I'd like to talk to you after this demonstration. I have a proposition to make." Without another word, the proxy turned and began to converse with another, branded with the blue triangle of the Perrin Sequence.

At last, Alad ushered the attendees into the auditorium proper; Azef found himself dragged into the owner's box alongside Alad himself, the latter muttering feverishly under his breath. Once all the attendees had settled, Alad V cleared his throat and began to speak.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have invited you all here tonight to witness the latest iteration of the Zanuka prototype. All the data from the current wave of retail models has been collected and used to improve this version, which should make it more than thirty percent more effective in a Tenno-hunting role. Additionally, recent acquisitions have allowed for a staggering leap in defensive capabilities that should reduce losses due to retaliation to a negligible figure. As you all know, the Zanuka Project works through the reverse-engineering of Tenno technology; through study of our latest acquisition, my engineers have succeeded in creating ablative shielding through the generation of short-lived nanomachines not dissimilar to Technocyte spores. The upshot of that? I'll let you see for yourselves."

With a grandiose bow, he flicked a switch and a string of cyan lights began to glow around his collar. Accompanying them was a mechanical screech as the Zanuka prototype leapt onto the stage, the spotlights focusing upon the animalistic quadruped.  
"Disable shields!" barked Alad, the blue glow of the energy shielding fading. "Iron hauberk!" he continued, causing the creature to acquire a ruddy sheen. "Begin weapon tests."  
First was the narrow beam of a flux rifle, diffusing across the skin of the creature without scratching the surface. Next, an array of physical projectiles rained from the ceiling, each deflecting off the Zanuka prototype's back without harm. Finally, an attendant fired an Opticor mining laser, designed for rapid excavation, squarely into its head. The sheen faded a little, but there was no other observable effect on the creature as the ground beneath it was pulverised by the shockwave.  
One terse "Enable shields," later and the layer of shielding returned, appearing beneath the red sheen with an electric crackle.

"As you can see," Alad continued, "our advances allow for significant durability with no added weight or lost functionality: it simply involved repurposing the nanofactory previous models used to generate missiles. Moreover, while this is currently dependent on certain Tenno components integrated into the Zanuka prototype, we are approaching a breakthrough that should, by the end of the year, allow for the integration of iron hauberk technology into almost every proxy. As ever, Alad Electronics is bringing you the future."  
There was a smattering of polite applause which subsided into expectant silence.

"I have one final demonstration, members of the Board: my latest subject Tenno has displayed remarkable resilience in recovering almost completely from its vivisection – a trait I hope one day to include in my Zanuka – and thus we can end this display with a trial by combat."  
With a cackle, he began to issue commands through his collar: a transparent wall descended between the ruined stage and the audience, after which the Rhino, uncomfortably familiar to Azef, was dragged onto the stage on an Osprey-suspended rack.  
"Tenno!" shouted Alad, "Defeat my Zanuka and I may let you live."

The bonds released with a click and the Tenno struggled to its feet. Without waiting for it to finish, Alad issued one final command: "Zanuka, _kill_."

The Rhino threw back its head and roared, the echoes filling the auditorium. It held its ground as the Zanuka prototype began to circle around it, keeping its head clearly pointed towards its foe. Seeing the prototype pass between it and the audience, it charged, colliding into it and sending both clattering against the wall, which held fast. Unfortunately, the Zanuka prototype recovered faster than it did, allowing it an extra moment to reposition itself. The air within glimmered as both parties began to glow red, after which a barrage of missiles sent the Rhino back to the ground. Before it could recover, the Zanuka prototype jumped onto it, pinning it to the ground and charging its laser cutters. The Rhino punched, kicked and headbutted, but to no avail. Each blow deflected harmlessly off the iron skin its nemesis. Finally, smoke filled the sealed section of the auditorium as the laser-cutters fired, each striking with the strength of an industrial mechanism designed to vaporise mountains and retooled for war. The first barrage dispelled the Tenno's remaining protection, eating through ablative nanomachines and energy shields alike. The second was much neater, severing the four limbs and the head in a sudden burst of Technocyte spores. Satisfied that it had achieved its objective, the Zanuka prototype raised its head and howled. "Most of this functionality will be available in the fourth wave of Zanuka Hunters," announced Alad as he dismissed his audience, "Shipping will start in the fourth quarter of the financial year."  
With a smile, he turned to Azef. "I hope you enjoyed the show, Chairman Dalo. I'll have the voidskimmer prepared for you in the primary shuttle bay."  
"Of course. Thank you, Grand Chairman Alad."

The Beecloud proxy approached Alad once again as he passed through the antechamber.  
"I've had the manifests checked and I'm impressed. You delivered a full shipment of salvage to Minthe less very acceptable losses despite a Tenno attack. The repair and crew-replacement figures aren't as encouraging, but you delivered where it matters."  
"You mentioned a proposition," Azef remarked, curious as to why he was wanted.  
"How would you feel about taking on some more lucrative salvage sites?"  
"I thought that the market in Europa is almost dead right now. We negotiated the purchase of a good number of sites within the last quarter, but no-one is selling any more."  
"The sites we have to offer aren't on Europa, salvager. Some of our Grineer contacts have let slip the existence of some very interesting remains on Uranus. We've managed to negotiate the purchase of one underwater research facility from the Grineer, but we need to employ the services of a competent salvager to set up and maintain operations there. The probability of attacks from both Grineer and Tenno is high, so we're willing to lend you an extra contingent of proxies to aid in defence, but you'll be free to manage the operation as you see fit."  
"Do you intend to turn us into a subsidiary?"  
"Certainly not! This will be strictly a professional agreement: we'll give you the site and some guards, you ensure that Beecloud Inc is your priority customer and that nothing interesting gets sold to Alad without first being offered to us."

Azef was sorely tempted; the offer seemed too good to be true, despite the significant risk that the site was a dud. Dalo and Co., while not the most powerful salvaging firm, prided itself on being able to squeeze every drop of value from a site before moving onto the next. The opportunity to stake the first Corpus claim on Uranus and thus to establish a monopoly on any artefacts they might locate was impossible to reject.

"I'll have my lawyers contact yours," he said at last. "We need to negotiate the precise details, but we have ourselves a deal."  
"I look forward to working with you further, Chairman Dalo," buzzed the proxy. "Perhaps the esteemed Grand Chairman was correct in his assessment of you."  
"May your ledgers become oceans," Azef responded, bowing as he turned toward the exit.

A waiting transport outside the building escorted Azef to the primary hangar, a massive affair intended primarily for industrial purposes; there was even a CSV docked in one of the bays. Typical, he reflected; for all the talk of being an honoured guest, he was being sent out via the workmen's exit. Regardless of the sting of the slight, he was still taken aback by the voidskimmer to which he was led. It wasn't the latest model, but it couldn't have been more than two years old. It was a sleek, elegant craft, the body about ten metres in length with the prow tapering to a point perhaps five metres beyond. It dwarfed the shuttles in the adjacent bays but unlike them was capable of more than just ferrying personnel from the ground to orbit. Sensing Azef's approach, the landing ramp slid open and revealed a finely-upholstered cabin within. The chauffeur nodded and walked back to his transport, leaving Azef to ascend the ramp and place himself in the pilot's seat. A note was stuck to the primary viewscreen, informing him that the vessel had been calibrated to his specifications based off data gathered during his stay. It also contained a duplicate of the invoice, demanding one credit to seal the deal. Shaking his head, Azef authorised the transaction and pushed the note aside.

It was a short while before air traffic control granted him permission to leave, but before long he had received the okay and manoeuvred the craft out of the hangar. As it surged into the air and away from Themisto, Azef relaxed properly for the first time since he had landed. The ordeal with Alad V was over and profit beckoned from uncharted waters. He contacted the relay authorities and had permission to punch upon arrival, emerging from the Europan relay more than half a million kilometres away a moment later. Pazuzu Station had few hangar bays large enough to contain a 'skimmer, but Azef was able to find one and brought his vessel in to land. He walked down the ramp with his helmet still sealed, wary once more of the budget restrictions that had prevented Dalo and Co. from installing wholly functional airlock barriers in their landing bays. Outside, in a stark corridor connecting the various landing bays, he was greeted by the remainder of the board. Despite their helmets rendering any expressions unreadable, he was quite sure they were pleased to see him return. "Business has gone smoothly in the eight days you've been absent," Nuyen informed him, "We've made some respectable findings in at least four sites, although I'm worried about some of the others."  
"I'll call a meeting later," said Azef, cutting him off before he could launch into an explanation, "I also have some important news."

"If we do accept Beecloud's offer and establish a base of operations on Uranus, it won't be easy. The CSV-0110F will have to retrieve goods from two entirely different locations, not to mention transporting them for sale. Moreover, we'd be given a barebones research lab and have to convert it to a salvaging operation ourselves. However, if their sources are right on this, we have the potential to make profits beyond our wildest dreams. Reports indicate intact relics from the Old War. Even one would make a big difference to our profit margins."  
The board listened to Azef with interest. He had explained his encounter with the proxy the previous day and allowed his fellows to consider the viability of making a deal. He wasn't unanimous agreement with his decision; it was a highly risky move that had a chance of leaving the firm bankrupt if it failed. Azef was willing to stake everything on the establishment of a Uranus facility, mindful of the fact that it would take one intact relic to justify the venture. However, he decided to put the motion to vote, ending with six votes in favour of accepting Beecloud's proposition to four against.

"I'll inform Ohzor that we'll do it. Our negotiators should reach an acceptable deal in the next day or two. In the meantime, we need to start assembling a core crew of experienced salvagers who can make up the core of the Uranus operation. At the same time it's essential to keep everything in order: at least for now, Europa is the core of our operations and we have very accurate predictions of the profit we should make. There's no need to abandon all of that now that's we've caught the scent of greater profits. If that's understood, we can consider this meeting adjourned."  
A collective call of "To Profit!" heralded the end of the meeting, with the board discussing the ramifications of the decision in hushed tones as they filed out of the boardroom.

As he stood up, a wave of pain washed through Azef, causing him to drop back to his seat with a clang. Hearing the commotion, Nuyen ran back into the room and helped the chairman to his feet.  
"Are you all right, Azef?" he asked worriedly.  
Azef sighed, the pain beginning to recede. "The doctors warned me that this might happen. One of the Tenno managed to poison me during the attack and our medicine isn't capable of dealing with it perfectly. I should survive, though; I'm not going to be leaving the firm to the rest of you just yet."  
"I should hope so. We need you at this point to guide us through these turbulent times."  
"I don't see why being stabbed should give me that ability," Azef chuckled.  
"You know what I..." Nuyen began, "Oh, it doesn't matter. Do you need help to get through to the infirmary?"  
Shaking his head, Azef pulled himself to his feet. Although the pain had faded almost entirely, it was by no means forgotten. The sudden blow to his entire body had placed him back in the Tenno attack, helpless and unable to react in the face of their assault. Rationally, he knew that he had managed to react and had survived the attack, but that hadn't stopped the terrifying flashback. Pushing the thoughts aside, he walked to the station infirmary to collect a dose of painkillers before heading to sleep.

Negotiations with Beecloud drew to a close, as expected. The conditions were highly favourable: Beecloud was to receive a six percent cut of all sales of goods originating from the site, translating to a six percent discount on sales to the firm. Additionally, they were to be granted favoured customer status and offered first pick of any salvage. In return, they were awarding the Uranus facility to Dalo and Partners gratis, supplying a proxy regiment to aid in the defence of the facility and keeping a path open in the Grineer-controlled space above Uranus for the CSV-0110F to move and collect any salvage. Again, Azef was forced to marvel at his good luck; the deal was almost ridiculously skewed in his favour, to the extent that he was absolutely certain that there was something he wasn't being told. However, even accounting for token attacks, whether Tenno or Grineer, profit still beckoned as long as the site was actually as valuable as promised. Beecloud was likely risking more than Dalo and Co.'s net worth to make the deal, he surmised, so there must be _something_ in it for them.

With that in mind, he welcomed a team of his most experienced salvagers aboard the CSV-0110F as it made its first voyage to Uranus, carrying the forward party and much of the necessary equipment. Although Europan salvaging operations were no strangers to waterproofing, the challenges of Uranus were quite the opposite: heat and pressure replaced cold and exposure. The Grineer relay authorities supplied permission to cross once the appropriate permits were presented – foremost among them the statement from Beecloud certifying ownership of the A2642 Sealab – and the vessel propelled itself into a low enough stationary orbit to deploy the shuttles, ferrying the crew and equipment to the small landing platform. All the architecture was hideously Grineer in design, looking dilapidated and low-quality even when new. Unfortunately, it would be ludicrously expensive to renovate, so, at least until the expense seemed justified, the base would have to remain as it was, although all the necessary extensions would be made in the Corpus style.

Gripping the handrail of one of the precarious elevators as tightly as he could, Azef descended into the depths to inspect the facility. It was better than he'd feared, but worse than he'd hoped: the Grineer researchers had stripped everything of value when leaving, preventing an initial boost in salvageable materials, but the actual facility was intact and there were very few leaks. He planted a comms relay in a central hall and tested the signal. It was barely sufficient to contact the advance party on the surface, let alone the CSV-0110F in orbit. However, he managed to summon his fellows into the Stygian abyss,

"Let's get everything in order," he informed them as they dispersed around the facility. "I will be returning in a week, ahead of the main party, to inspect progress and I expect everything to be in working order. Plug all the leaks and check everywhere for anything the Grineer forgot. After that, we'll need to expand into the rocks below to search for the Orokin remains. The reward to anyone who spots even the most insignificant trinket from that era will be significant, I assure you."  
With that, Azef left the crew to their business and returned to the surface where a shuttle awaited him.

Profit beckoned.


End file.
